


I’m Available

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Harry gets the call up, but Dele and Eric don’t. Dele doesn’t cope well without him.
Relationships: Dele Alli/Eric Dier/Harry Winks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	I’m Available

**Author's Note:**

> So. I found this in my notes from September (?) and I finished it for you as a lock down treat! I’m sure it refers to Harry getting the call up that Eric and Dele never got. Winks was very chummy with Chilly on that break indeed. 
> 
> Title is from Justin Beiber’s Available which is SO GOOD

International break when you hadn’t received a call up was the BEST. 

Dele stretched his toes out in bed after his second nap of the day, the smell of cooking wafting up the stairs - grilled salmon, maybe, and definitely asparagus. Dele loved asparagus. 

He rolled out of the bed, quite the feat considering the size of the thing, and made his way down the stairs, wondering if he could convince Eric to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas with him. It was September after all, and everyone knew September was just Halloween eve. 

He found Eric plating up dinner, shirtless and warm, and Dele draped himself over his shoulder blades, kissing the back of his neck gently. 

“You’re a good house husband,” Dele said, voice gravelly with sleep. “Hope you’ve done all the laundry, too.” 

“Shut up,” Eric laughed, reaching behind himself to rub at Dele’s arm. “I made salmon for tea.” 

“I can see that,” Dele answered, opening the cupboard door and reaching for glasses. His fingers hovered over a third glass before he caught himself, taking two down and closing the doors quickly. He poured himself a glass of pineapple juice - he fucking hated water with his dinner - and put sparkling water in Eric’s cup. He wasn’t sure why, because Dele wasn’t a baby, but the sight of the blackcurrant squash sitting beside the sink made something twist sadly in his heart. 

He ignored that feeling, carrying the glasses over the island and putting them down. He climbed up onto a seat as Eric set their plates down, sitting down on the opposite side and wasting no time in digging into his food. 

“What do you want to do this week?” Eric asked around a mouthful of salmon. 

Dele thought about it. They had stuff to do at Spurs, obviously - fitness checks and stuff, physio - but their schedules were nowhere near as packed as they usually were, and Dele wanted nothing more than to spend a week holed up in the house, eating and lying around and fucking, probably, if they could be bothered. “Nothing,” he smiled. “Absolutely nothing. Just want to be here with you. Even if you are the most annoying person in the world,” he added quickly, just so Eric didn’t get a big head. 

“Okay,” Eric said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Do you want to FaceTime -“ 

“No,” Dele interrupted, eyes on his plate. “No. I want to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas.” 

Eric was quiet for a beat, and then he said “It’s only September.” 

“Fuck off. It’s Halloween eve!” 

“October 30th is Halloween eve.” 

“God, you’re the fucking worst,” Dele huffed, picking up a piece of asparagus with his fingers and biting down on it. “Fucking Scrooge.” 

“Scrooge hated Christmas, not Halloween.” 

“I hate _you._ ” 

“Yeah?” Eric raised his eyebrows. “I can go home, if you’d rather. You can try sucking your own dick again, it worked out so well last time.” 

Dele blushed, remembering how he’d been certain he’d thrown a disk out of his back and needed to go to A&E. “You can stay,” he grumbled. “And suck my dick. And watch Jack Skellington with me.” 

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Eric said, smiling happily. 

Dele smiled back, firmly ignoring the uneasy feeling in his stomach that something - or someone - was missing. 

They were halfway through the movie, Dele sprawled over Eric’s heat radiating body, his fingers drawing a lazy rhythm over Eric’s heart, when something started vibrating under Dele’s thigh. 

He raised his head and looked at Eric. “If you were horny, you should’ve just said.” 

Eric didn’t even reply, just nudged Dele off him so he could fish his phone out of his pocket. They both looked at it - Baby wants to FaceTime - and Dele groaned. “Don’t answer,” he said, falling back against the sofa and looking steadfastly at the TV. 

“Of course I’m answering,” Eric said incredulously. 

“It’s only been two fucking days, Diet. Get a life! Take it out the room if you are,” he mumbled, not looking at Eric. 

Eric sighed but got up, disappearing out the room. Dele swallowed against the lump in his throat and stared unblinkingly as Jack and Sally sang to each other on the hill. 

Dele couldn’t sleep. 

He couldn’t settle in bed - he was too hot under the covers, too cold with a leg out of them. The pillow was uncomfortable and hurt his neck, and Eric was making a fucking weird noise every time he breathed which was really really annoying. Dele tossed himself for the thousandth time since they’d gone to bed, sighing loudly. 

“Hey,” Eric whispered, reaching out a hand and pulling Dele close to his own body, stroking along his spine. “Settle, Del. Settle.” 

“Can’t sleep,” Dele said into Eric’s neck. 

“Just go phone him,” Eric said, voice thick with sleep. 

Annoyance prickled over Dele’s skin. “What? I can’t sleep because I had two naps today, Eric. Nothing else.” 

“Okay, okay,” Eric said, fingers slowing as sleep pulled at him. “I’m sorry.” 

“Out of order you’d suggest otherwise, really.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” Eric drawled, hand coming up to rest heavily against the back of Dele’s neck, a soothing and steady weight. “It’s all okay. Go sleep.” 

Dele didn’t want to sleep anymore now that he’d been told to, but there was something very relaxing about that hand against his skin, something very familiar about the smell of Eric’s body, and he didn’t stay awake much longer before his eyes were fluttering closed and he was under. 

By the fifth day of international break, Dele’s view that it was ‘the BEST’ was beginning to wane. 

He was a little bit bored, frankly. Eric was fine but he did get old after a while. He wouldn’t rise to any of Dele’s bait, he wouldn’t rough house. All he liked to do was watch the news and read books, and Dele was beginning to get cabin fever in the house with him. There was only so much sex they could have, too, and after a while Dele was fed up of having Eric’s lumbering frame draped over him like one of those bear skin rugs. 

He took to flopping down on the furniture and groaning loudly, trying to put Eric off whatever it was he was doing. When he couldn’t get a reaction that way he’d drape himself over Eric, making those puppy eyes at him that seemed to work for everyone but Dele. Eric wouldn’t look away from his book or his phone and Dele would be furious, slapping Eric in the dick before going off to work out in his gym. 

Dele spent longer than he probably should in there, but it was better to have his mind on his aching muscles than on how bored he was. He lifted weights until his arms were shaking, and then he ran on the treadmill until he was certain he was going to throw up, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. There was something so indescribably gratifying about the way working out hard felt, almost on par with good sex. 

Dele took himself for a bath when he could physically do no more, tipping tonnes of Eric’s posh epsome salts in the water in the hope he’d ache a little less tomorrow. He ignored the messages popping up on his phone screen, much the same way he’d been doing all week, and closed his eyes, letting his body sink low into the hot tub. He’d slept poorly again the night before, and he felt that he could dose off now, right here in this bath, a nice little nap in the steamy bathroom. 

But his phone wouldn’t stop lighting up where it was perched on the side, and that was really quite distracting. With an irritated sigh Dele reached one hand out of the tub and grabbed his phone, looking at the notifications. Eric and Winks were having a conversation in the group chat that included the three of them, and Harry was talking some shit about Chilly that had Dele’s brows sinking low. He navigated to Instagram and clicked on Harry’s story, gasping when he saw it - Harry was in Ben’s room, watching Netflix by the look of it. 

Dele gasped, outraged, and turned his phone face down on the bath mat. He sunk into the water again, let it submerge his head, everything muffled and quiet. Chilwell was _his_ friend, and Winksy was just _his._ He was wracked with jealousy and fomo, overcome with the urge to text Harry something mean to ruin his night, anything to get his attention. He counted down from 10 to ride out the urge, blowing bubbles out into the water, and then when his lungs were empty he emerged from the water, hands clutching the side of the tub, scrambling for breath. 

Dele didn’t give a fuck about International Break, and he didn’t give a flying fuck about Winksy, either. Both things could get wrecked. 

Dele woke up early, the bedroom pitch black, that gnawing feeling from last night still there, under his skin, eating him from the inside out. Eric was draped over his back, radiating heat and breathing wetly into his neck. Dele turned around into him, desperately needy. He wanted attention, he wanted to know Eric, at least, needed him how Dele needed Eric. 

Eric stirred when Dele moved into him, his hands sliding low on Eric’s hips, lips pressing gently to the pulse in his neck. Eric brought one big hand to the small of Dele’s back, eyebrows furrowing a bit in his sleep as he came into consciousness. 

“Del?” 

“I need you,” Dele whispered, getting a thigh between Eric’s legs and grinding down. “Need you so much.” 

Eric pulled at his waist, bringing Dele up to straddle him, finding his mouth. They were long past caring about morning breath, and Dele almost found it comforting, the taste of someone first thing in the morning, completely at their most vulnerable, no frills, just them as they were. They kissed slowly, just the two of them in the darkness of the bedroom, the world quiet and distant outside the door. 

He pressed himself into Eric heavily, hoping he could sense what Dele needed without him having to say it. And of course he did, because Eric knew him better than anyone, and he flipped them over carefully, positioning himself between Dele’s legs, bearing down on him and surrounding him just how he needed, biting down on his jaw. 

Dele whimpered and scraped his fingers lightly over Eric’s shoulder blades, teeth finding Eric’s earlobe and pulling on it. Eric slid a hand down Dele’s stomach and put a hand in his pants, calloused palm wrapping around Dele’s dick, the pull of it rough and too dry but just right for the way Dele felt. Dele pushed his knees further towards the mattress, trying to offer himself, open himself up, and Eric continued to work his hand up and down, a relentless rhythm that was going to make Dele come really soon. 

“It’s okay,” Eric whispered, bringing his lips to Dele’s ear. “It’s okay that you need him.” Dele whimpered again, squeezing his eyes closed, too lost in sensation to argue this. “Let yourself need him,” Eric continued, fist moving fast enough that the bed was squeaking a little bit. “He needs you too.” 

Dele came with a gasp, toes curling into the bed, face in Eric’s neck. The sensation of orgasm washed over him; the feeling that everything in the world was good and right and so was he, he was happy and in love and his body was singing. He panted as Eric rolled off him, wiping his hand unceremoniously on Dele’s boxers and flopping back down against the pillows, slipping back into sleep with his dick standing up in his pants. Dele rolled his eyes at him and got out of bed, making his way to the bathroom with a yawn. 

Fucking a team mate had never been a thing Dele thought he wanted, but it’d happened as naturally as breathing, an extension of the way Eric felt like home. Fucking two of his team mates at the same time... had never even been something he thought was allowed. But if Eric felt like home, Harry felt like what it meant to be _Dele,_ what it meant to be twenty three and British, what it meant to like girls but also like boys just as much, like being all the way straight and all the way gay at the same time, like feeling for the longest time like he was only pretending or just horny, and then discovering that it was okay that he wanted both. Dele didn’t want to need anyone, because people always let other people down, but he hadn’t gotten to choose whether he wanted to need Eric and Harry. He just did. 

Dele showered the come off his stomach and dumped his underwear in the laundry bin. He thought about what Eric had just said whilst he brushed his teeth. He didn’t care what Eric claimed to be true, because the fact was that Harry wasn’t here, and Dele hated it. Harry clearly didn’t Dele that much. He had Chilly now, too. 

He switched the kettle on in the kitchen and padded over to the sofa, flicking on the TV. He had some reminders on his phone about a Boohoo event he’d agreed to attend that evening, a couple of texts from Harry that he swiped away without reading, some Instagram notifications. 

Dele tucked his feet under his legs on the sofa and settled in with an old episode of the Simpsons. The kettle clicked to let him know it was boiled, but Dele didn’t move. He knew Eric would be down soon, making the tea, bringing it through. 

Dele didn’t need either of them. Not one bit. 

He went to the Boohoo Man event with an earring in. 

Eric was reading a book in the lounge when Dele breezed in and announced he was going out. Eric smiled and glanced up, double taking when he spotted the earring. Dele jutted out his chin and scowled, daring Eric to comment. 

“Where is it you’re going again?” 

“Boohoo press event.” 

“Right...” 

“I’m off. Car’s outside.” 

“Have fun, Del. Hold on -“ 

Dele turned around at the door. “I’ll kiss you later, Eric.” 

“No, it’s - Harry says you’re still not texting him back. He’s quite upset.” 

“I’m literally running so late, mate,” Dele snapped. “Harry can’t expect me to be on my phone 24/7 at his beck and call!” 

“That’s not fair,” Eric said carefully. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Dele was already leaving. 

There was so much free booze at the event and Dele wasn’t playing footie at the minute, anyway, so he decided to have a couple of drinks. 

A couple became a few, which became half a dozen. He lost count after that. He was having a good time, actually - there were some good rappers and loads of good looking girls and people on Social Media were losing it over his earring. 

He had wanted the alcohol to make him feel loose and happy, but all it was doing was making him feel dark and heavy. He couldn’t stop thinking about Eric’s words that morning - “Let yourself need him.” Dele found himself feeling overwhelmed with it all, suddenly. He had to get away from all this. 

He snuck off to the bathroom and locked himself in one of the cubicles, sitting down on the closed lid. He let his head fall into his hands and he breathed out slowly, and then back in. With a shaky hand Dele took out his phone, unlocked it, and opened up Harry’s texts from the last week. 

His heart sank. Harry was clearly quite shaken that Dele was ignoring him. He was sweet and needy and begging Dele to just reply to him, just tell him he was okay. Dele couldn’t cope with the guilt that suddenly overwhelmed him. He typed out some words - I love you - and then deleted them. He typed out some more - I’m sorry - and then deleted them, too. Finally he settled on a message - Sorry, been busy lol - and pressed send, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Harry text back instantly. ‘It’s ok haha! I miss you so much. Your earring looks so sick’ 

Of course Harry would say that it was okay that his boyfriend had been ignoring him. It was pathetic, and it made anger swell in Dele’s chest. He grabbed that feeling with both hands - it was easier than the guilt. 

‘Surprised uv got time to text me when ur with chilly ha’, he typed and pressed send, knee jumping with anxiety. 

Harry was quick. ‘What? Are u jealous? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?’ 

Dele scoffed. He started typing out something nasty, something he wouldn’t be able to take back. He imagined Eric’s disappointed face when Harry showed him what Dele had said, and he stopped himself. He turned his phone off, wiped at his eyes, and barged out of the toilet to go and rejoin the party. 

Dele woke up on the sofa, rough as fuck and with Clay licking his hand. 

He groaned and sat up slowly, head thumping. He didn’t know what time it was or how he’d gotten home. He needed painkillers, water, and something greasy to eat. He needed Eric to take care of him, immediately. 

He stumbled up the stairs to the bedroom, undoing his jeans as he went. Eric was under the covers, probably asleep, and Dele climbed in behind him with a sad little whimper. 

“I’m poorly,” he groaned, hand snaking around Eric’s waist. I need -“ 

“I’m angry at you,” Eric said, pushing Dele off. 

A wave of anxiety washed over Dele and he sat up straight. “Fuck. What did I do?” 

“Look at your phone,” Eric said, not turning around. 

Dele let out a shaky breath of nausea. “Don’t know where it is. Can you just tell me, Eric. I’m going to have a panic attack if you don’t.” 

Eric grabbed his phone off the nightstand and shoved it in Dele’s face. There was a screenshot there of a text conversation that Dele recognised as being between himself and Harry. He frowned at the phone and groaned. 

“Yeah. You’re a fucking dick.” 

“I was drunk. You can tell I was drunk.” 

Eric looked at Dele in disgust. “Sorry, Del, I don’t think being drunk is an excuse for texting your boyfriend saying you want him to go and get with someone else so that he’ll stop bothering you and muscling in on your relationship?!” 

Dele shoved his face into the pillow. “I only said it because I just thought, like, if he wants Chilly but he’s too scared to piss us off or that then it’ll give him an out -“ 

“He doesn’t want Chilwell! You fucking idiot! And now he thinks we don’t want him!” 

“What did you say to him?” 

“I told him I love him. And that he knows how you get when he tries to do something without you.” 

Dele looked up. “What does that mean?!” 

Eric rolled his eyes and got out of bed. “I’m not having this conversation right now. I suggest you text Harry before the game today and apologise.” 

Dele stuffed his face back into the pillows. He wasn’t going to apologise to Harry for something he said when he was drunk. Not in this lifetime, or the next. 

He didn’t do apologies. 

Dele was lying on the couch playing Fortnite when the sound of Harry finally arriving home rang through the house. 

His traitorous heart immediately started racing, but he didn’t move to get up. Harry could come to _him._ He couldn’t really concentrate on his game anymore and he kept dying and respawning. His palms were sweating. 

A couple of minutes ticked by and Harry _still_ hadn’t come to see him. Dele would not cave. He would not, absolutely not, bend to Harry’s will. He wouldn’t be mugged off. He wouldn’t apologise. 

But then he could hear Harry’s laugh and the low rumble of Eric’s voice, and he was so angry he couldn’t stay still. He dropped the controller in his hand and stormed in the direction of their voices, his hands stuffed in his jogger pockets. 

When he found them in the kitchen they were kissing. Eric’s fingers were stroking up and down Harry’s back gently. Winksy was still in his England trackies, the black ones. Dele hated it. 

“Hello?!” He demanded, pulling at Eric’s shoulder. 

Eric and Harry blinked at him. Eric stayed close to Harry, protective, and Dele wanted to punch him. 

“He’s just got in the door. Can you not wait?” Dele snapped. 

“Hi Del,” Harry said quietly. He looked tired and his hair was still damp from the shower. “Everyone missed you this week.” 

Dele looked at Eric, who flashed him a warning glare. He proceeded anyway. “Not everyone it seems.” 

“Dele,” Eric growled. “Stop it. Now.” 

“I didn’t do anything with Chilly. I’m allowed to have other friends.” Harry said defiantly. 

“What? I don’t care who you’re friends with,” Dele said, even though that was exactly it. Dele was excruciatingly jealous. Jealous of everything - Harry’s call up, Harry’s friendship, Harry’s healthy hamstrings. “Couldn’t care fucking less.” 

Harry was about to respond when Eric held up his hands. “I’m not in the mood to listen to you two bicker! Dele, Harry and I are going upstairs. If you want to join us then you can apologise. If not, sleep down here again tonight. This is ridiculous.” 

Dele gasped indignantly and watched as Harry and Eric walked out of the kitchen, neither of them even looking back. Dele couldn’t believe his eyes. He was furious - his hands balled into fists and tears pricked at his eyes. He didn’t need them. He’d leave right now, go in the car and fuck off, and then they’d feel bad. He’d dump them both, leave them to one another just like they clearly wanted. 

But then, as quickly as it had come on, the anger dissipated. Dele didn’t want to be on his own. He didn’t want to sleep on the couch again. And he didn’t want to spend another second without Harry. 

He took the stairs two at a time. His heart was thumping when he kicked the bedroom door open and stood there panting, staring at Harry wildly. 

“I’m convinced you want Chilwell. He’s fitter than me and you get along so much better and I didn’t even get a call up so he’s clearly a better footballer...” 

Harry approached him slowly, thick brows knitted together, and kissed Dele’s throat. 

“And I’m convinced you’re only with me half the time so you can get to Eric.” 

Harry dropped to his knees and kissed Dele’s waistband. 

“Because I never thought you fancied me the whole time...” he trailed off as Harry pulled Dele’s joggers down. “I didn’t even... think you liked me...” 

He was fattening up as Harry moved his hand over Dele’s dick, big brown eyes looking up at him. Dele didn’t say anything else because then Harry was sucking him off, never breaking eye contact. His mouth was wet and warm, he was good at this, always had been. 

Dele tipped his head back and let out a moan. He was lucky, really. This felt really really nice. 

“Look at him, Del,” Eric said, coming to stand beside him. He kissed Dele’s temple and grabbed a handful of his arse. “Look how much he loves you.”

Dele whimpered and forced himself to look down, to maintain eye contact. He put a hand in Harry’s soft hair and gripped it as Eric snaked a wet finger round and circled at his hole. 

“Tell him you’ve missed him.” 

“I’ve missed you,” Dele breathed. “So much. I can’t - I don’t text back cos - it feels like - I’m in control - fuuuuck,” he gasped as Eric pushed inside his body. 

“Good boy,” Eric said. “Good. Keep speaking.” 

Dele felt like his head was going to explode. He was torn between pushing back against Eric’s fingers and forward into Harry’s mouth. He wanted to cry, and he knew Eric would tell him just to let it out, but he wanted to hold on to his dignity a little bit longer. 

“I love you. Both of you. I can’t cope with how much I love you sometimes it’s like I need you both I’m so scared of not having you I don’t know if I can be happy again after all this I’ll never find another thing like this and I’ll never love anyone this much again and Winksy that’s so nice bro you are so fucking... yeah, so good at this, isn’t he Dier, isn’t he so good?” 

“So good,” Eric said into the back of Dele’s neck. “Are you going to blow him whilst I fuck you?” 

Dele nodded furiously, and Harry groaned around his dick. 

“Come on then. Up on the bed.” 

Dele wanted to complain at the loss when Eric pulled out and Harry popped off. He looked around wildly, brain lagging. Eric guided Dele’s shirt over his head and Harry kissed him on the mouth. 

“I love you so much,” he said. Dele just nodded. 

He bent over on the bed on all fours and waited for Harry and Eric to join him. They didn’t leave him waiting long. When Eric slid into him, Dele’s eyes rolled and he groaned. Harry was there, nudging the head of his dick against Dele’s lips, and Dele opened his mouth for him and looked up at him and Harry brushed his fingers against Dele’s cheeks, eyes so full of love, and Dele was crying. 

He was just so happy, so content at the centre of attention. He hadn’t been called up, but it didn’t really matter. He was here and these men loved him. He was so loved. 

He wasn’t even really sucking Harry off properly, just haphazardly blowing him, trying his best not to bite him as Eric plowed into him from behind. He was vaguely aware of one or both of them calling him a good boy, telling him they loved him, and when that made him moan Harry came. Dele put a comment about how easy Harry was in the vault. That was for another time. 

Dele came not long after that. He lay boneless in their bed, voices swimming around his head. He was aware of someone wiping him down, kissing his spine. Harry pulled him into a hug and Eric tugged the sheets over the top of them all. 

“Love you both,” Dele slurred, and then he was falling asleep. 

He was woken up by the sound of Harry and Eric talking quietly. Dele watched them for a while, warm and content under the duvet. 

Harry was propped up on Eric’s chest, smiling widely. He was telling a story - Dele thought it was about international break. The way Eric looked at him made Dele’s stomach flip. It wasn’t jealousy, necessarily, just awe. They were so different with each other than they were with Dele. They were softer, gentler, more protective of each other. That he was allowed to be part of it was a miracle he would never stop being grateful for. 

He watched them for a few more seconds. When they started kissing he stretched dramatically with a loud yawn. 

“Mooooorning all.” 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Eric said fondly. 

“Morning Del.” 

“Who’s making the tea then?” Dele said, reaching for his phone. 

Eric rolled his eyes. “I’ll go. Gonna let the dog out anyway.” He kissed Harry again, and then leaned over and kissed Dele on the forehead. 

When it was just Harry and Dele, things felt slightly awkward. Dele put his phone down and rolled onto his side. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you when you were away.” 

Harry nodded slowly. “I hate it when you do that. It makes me feel like you don’t care.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dele said again. “I know I need to work on how I deal with my own emotions.” 

“Yeah, you do.” 

“Tell me about international break then. Bet it was shite without the World Cup boys.” 

Harry whacked Dele in the face with a pillow for that, and Dele pounced on him. This was exactly how it was meant to be. 

And all three of them were so fucking happy.


End file.
